


Stop

by lha



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, S1:E6 - Lethe, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 11:54:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12480976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lha/pseuds/lha
Summary: Set at the end of Episode 6:  LetheGabriel Lorca just wants the war to be over, for it all to stop.





	Stop

Gabriel hadn’t known, he couldn’t have known that it was a trap, that he was sending Katrina to her death or worse. He couldn’t have known and if he had, he certainly wouldn’t have suggested that she go. But he had suspected, had known it was dangerous and so had she. He had thought, hoped though that this foolhardy mission would be successful against the odds because more than anything, Gabriel wanted the war over. He wanted the suffering to stop, he wanted the pain to stop and he kept telling himself that if the war was over then he could stop, do what it was they all seemed to want him to. He could let them take his ship away if the war was over, if they were safe. He could stop. 

He had always been a man of action; he had never enjoyed waiting for orders and liked letting other people take action while he hung back even less. This however, was the most exquisite agony yet. He had sent Saru away, told him to report back to Starfleet and ask for orders but then the door had closed, and he was on his own with nothing to do but wait. He looked around at his quarters, the unmade bed and suddenly couldn’t stand it. The thought of Katrina arching beneath his fingers, of the lovely sounds that she made when he… in a burst of activity, he pulled off the sheets throwing them into the refresh unit and pulling out fresh ones. He made the bed like an automaton, hospital corners and tension so tight you could bounce a stem bolt off the covers. Stepping back he looked at the bed again and then around at the rest of the room. Driven by something he couldn’t name, he cleared the rest of the space until it too was an example of military dorm etiquette. When that was done though, the thrumming in his veins and the weight on his chest remained. Removing what was left of his uniform, he pulled on his exercise gear and headed out into the corridor. 

He ran until the pounding of his training shoes filled his head, his thoughts quieted by the repetition, and then he kept on running. He lost track of circuits, of the faces he passed, the feel of his own breath tight in his chest and the variation in the lighting between the open and closed portions of the walkways the only reminder that he was even moving. Ship’s day must have arrived at some point as the enclosed corridors became brighter, pushing his tolerance till he was running almost blind.

“Bridge to Captain Lorca,” Saru’s voice suddenly rang through the corridor and broke into his carefully constructed haze. He slowed, stumbling slightly to a halt and taking a couple of stuttering steps towards the nearest comm panel. 

“Go ahead,” he instructed. 

“We have been told to fall back Captain, we will not be part of the mission to rescue Admiral Cornwell.” Gabriel let his head fall forward to rest on the bulkhead as he panted.

“Well then, we had better withdraw Mr Saru, hadn’t we?” There was another awkward pause, as though his First Officer had been confident that this was not the answer he would receive.

“Aye Captain.” Came the eventual response and Lorca closed the comm link. Turning so that he was resting with his back against the wall, the lighting in the corridor seemed suddenly even brighter than it had been before. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, but his skull was pounding in a way that let him know that this had been building for some time. Now that he’d stopped his legs were turning to jelly beneath him, and he struggled to push himself away from the wall. 

“Sir,” a couple of crewman greeted him as they passed and he raised a hand in acknowledgement. He set off down the corridor trying not to squint and keep his breathing steady. His first thought had been to return to his cabin to lie in the dark till sleep came but pressure in his skull was only increasing and then like some kind of oasis appearing in the desert the entrance to sickbay appeared. He didn’t dwell on the fact that he hadn’t even thought he was on the right deck for it but instead hit the entrance pad. As the door opened he was momentarily blinded and slammed closed his eyelids, faltering on the threshold. 

“Captain?” one of the nurses asked. 

“Computer, lights down to ten percent,” Culber called from the far side of the room, as a pair of hands wrapped themselves around his biceps and steered him toward a biobed. “Thank you Nurse, I’ve got this. Would you finish the checks on Ambassador Sarek for me?” Throughout this, Gabriel was carefully encouraged to sit on the edge of the bed and went without a fight. He could hear steps again and then a hand resting against his wrist.

“Captain?” Culber asked, his tone quiet and professional, “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I…” he began, almost surprised to find, his breathing still laboured, “I was exercising. I… the lights,” he was struggling to think, “… my head.”

“Ok, ok I’m going to give you something for the pain,” the doctor said, as the sound of his scanner grated against Gabirel’s nerves. “Any other symptoms?”

“No… no I’m just… tired and my head hurts.”

“Here this should help.” Culber depressed a syringe into his neck, before reaching into one of the nearby cabinets. “I’m going to put something over your eyes,” he warned before placing a cool gel-like strip over his eyes and fastening at the back of his head. 

“Better?” the doctor asked after a few minutes. 

“Mmm,” Gabriel agreed, through the fog of pain medication and exhaustion. 

“So what sort of exercise were you doing?” Culber asked.

“Running, doctor, perfectly acceptable cardiovascular exercise,“ he muttered,

“Mmm, and how far did you cover?”

“No idea,” he replied honestly.

“Ok, so how long did you run for.”

“Really doctor, I’m not sure what this has got to do with anything…”

“I’m quite sure that it’s got a great deal to do with your current state. Can you tell me when you last ate or drank?” Gabriel recognised this tone. He reached behind him to release the cover from his eyes and missed it’s comforting shelter immediately. 

“Doctor, while I’m sure you’re only trying to do your job…”

“I can find out easily enough Captain,” Doctor Culber said flatly. 

“Which will not be necessary.” Gabriel was struggling to find the motivation to fight this battle but there Kat was in the back of his mind, her accusations cutting deeply because he knew they were true. “Apologies doctor, it has been a .. trying day and I… I may have overdone things.” Culber lifted an eyebrow;

“That would be one way to put it.”

“Well, I agree not to be so foolish next time…”

“And that you’ll finish this before you leave,” he handed him a glass of murky pink liquid, “eat a proper meal and then go to bed for at least six hours. Then I’ll not take this any further. This time.” Culber held his gaze until Gabriel’s eyes started to water and he had to blink.

“Understood Doctor,” he conceded.

An hour later he had met two of the three stipulations and was crawling between the cool clean sheets of his own bed. Another dose of medication had left him drowsy but underneath the lethargy and the heavy lids, the ever running river of his thoughts continued;  
 _He didn’t know, he couldn’t have known, he only wanted it all to be over, for the war to end and for it all to stop, so that he too could stop. ___

**Author's Note:**

> For an episode that left me with major-angst related feels, I've struggled to coalesce them into something fic worthy. I hope that you enjoy this and thank you for reading! Be sure to let me know your thoughts either way here or over on twitter - @LHA_again
> 
> Lx


End file.
